Fracture
by owl-soldier
Summary: Shikamaru's musings about life and death. Dark, twisted and a little abstract.


[I don't own any charcacters etc. They are (C) to Masashi Kishimoto.. This is really weird but I just felt like writing it... Let me know what you think, please. I hope it's not too confusing...]

Fracture

_The boundless sky arches over endlessly, washed with soft clouds that swell with cotton and bleed mistily into the blue. A young boy lies beneath it, surrounded by the symphony of birdsong and the simple smell of the grass, which tickles the skin on his bare arms. His sparkling eyes are fixed up above upon the most perfect sight; he is full of the promise of life and infinite possibility… _

I am terrified of Death. Only a flimsy barrier separates me from His chill touch- Just one breath, just one heartbeat. And yet, it is a fear that thrills me through to the core. Each time I tempt Death, each time I slip from His grasp I feel… on fire… The dance is intricate and deadly; not one foot must fall out of place or all is lost. He is all around me now, all around my family, and friends. Each time we drop our guard He creeps closer. I cannot see Him, I cannot hear Him… I only feel Him like a cold breath upon the back of my neck that makes my spine shiver and my stomach clench. I know that one day he will take everything from me.

_The boy yawns contentedly, and stretches out a hand to pick a small flower from the grass, the delicate petals feel like velvet against his fingertips; the flower is beautiful, he thinks. It is a deep, cobalt blue with tender white highlights which are hard to see- its smell reminds him of a girl with golden hair and cobalt eyes whom he likes to walk with._

Love is dangerous; it tears down the armour of a heart and leaves it unguarded. Death often uses this to His advantage, because love causes you to lose your self-preservation. I know this, and I know that sacrifice is the most noble of deaths. But still, I fear Death. I fear the unknown and the end of being. I want to continue to exist, I want to live and love and laugh and cry. But Death is the enemy of life, like light and shadow they collide and fight for dominion… I know the shadows though; I am in awe of their calm stillness and their vigorous movement. Shadows are not dead; no. They are reflections of the living world upon a realm unseen and unknown.

_Suddenly, the boy sits up straight as a sharp sound pierces his solitary bubble- his mother calling him to dinner. He sighs and pushes himself to his feet, noticing the grass-stains smeared across his shorts and his knees; he is amused, it looks like paint. Nature is artistic, he thinks. It makes beautiful flowers like the eyes of girls and grass which paints the knees of careless boys._

I think the irony of life is that I appreciate it more when it is gone. Wanting what I cannot have, wishing I could turn back time but knowing it is impossible. I want to erase the bloodstains on my hands; the blood is not mine. It belongs to friends that I have loved, who laughed with me and held me up on their shoulders. It belongs to enemies that I have hated, who ripped me apart with their evil. All the tears in the world will not erase the bloodstains on my hands. But I must carry them all with me, because they have shaped who I am; what I have become. What I must continue to be.

_He looks towards the gate and starts to run, the blades of grass brushes against him and begs for him to stay. Stay and watch the glorious sky, and smell the beautiful flowers. I can't, he calls back to them. I have to go. Leave. He races the butterflies who dance around him, twitching their fragile wings which sprinkle fine dust in the air. It sparkles like a million tiny diamonds; and suddenly a gust of wind scatters petals- they whirl around him like a pink snowstorm and he can't see where he's going anymore. He stops dead…_

I am a leader now, not a follower. My time of innocence is past. No more fear. No more flowers dancing sacred in the breeze. Red and throbbing air that pulses with the cries of the dying. Head pounding. Stop the bleeding. I can't feel the sun; why? The clouds are stained with blood. I can see her bright blue eyes. Now wide with fear; close. Wake. His big hands and warm heart; gone. Breathe.

Stop.

_Who is that standing before him? The man is tall and strong, with his eyes fixed on the sky. He stands and stares for a while at the clouds, now streaked with pink and orange. After a moment, the boy tugs on his sleeve.  
"Are you lost, sir?" he asks.  
The stranger shakes his head.  
"No, I was just looking for something" he replies. "But it's alright, I found it now"_

"_What can that be?" the curious boy tilts his head.  
"Myself" replied the man.  
"I don't understand…" he said, scrunching his face up and scratching his head.  
"Don't worry, I don't expect you to. I didn't understand at first either"_

"_Do you understand now?"_

_The stranger smiled, one that, although etched with years of dark experiences was the same as the bright one the little boy wore now.  
"I'm not sure, but I do know that I never truly lost myself in the first place. I was only hiding in the shadows"_

_The boy pondered this for a moment before shrugging his small shoulders, and inclining his head slightly; then begun to resume the walk that had been interrupted. He was sad to notice though that the butterflies had gone and the sky was becoming darker. A cold wind bit at his bare neck and made him shiver.  
"It's cold" he remarked.  
"Best to get inside then" advised the man. "Wouldn't want to be caught out in a place like this"_

Sometimes, the answer that we seek lies in the darkest of places… I have discovered that everything that matters will keep the smile on my face and warmth in my heart. When fire burns within, the cold winds will not reach it- But friends will kindle it, and love will light it anew.


End file.
